duck-shaped pain

I got paid yesterday, much earlier than I expected to. One of the problems with being a contract employee, besides accursed self-employment tax, is that the paychecks show up whenever someone gets around to giving them to you. Then, again, the benefits of being a contract employee at my job is that you can pretty much show up and go home whenever you want � a benefit worth any amount of hassle. I've had three jobs now in my adult life that have been like that � no defined schedule or hours. Getting the work done is the most important part � whether I do it at night or in the morning or on weekends is up to me. No wonder I don't own a watch.

So, with my newfound riches, I bought a dress (I actually have no winter dresses, so needed it, you know?), and some books: Traveler's Tales: Food and Zen and Japanese Culture by D. T. Suzuki. I read some of the former today and it's terrific so far: it's a collection of short stories about interesting food encounters, whether here or abroad. Flan, dried squid sandwiches, 90 types of onions � if it exists, there's a story for it. Highly recommended.

I might go to Denver this weekend � my mom is moving there, and needs assistance in finding an apartment. Since I can tell Congress Park from Cheesman Park from Uptown from Capitol Hill from West Washington Park from The Baker Historic District [1] -- just from the address[2] -- my services are needed. Then again, maybe not � my mom will probably end up somewhere out in Englewood or an equivalent burb. If that happens, my services will be concentrating on record shopping instead. I haven't actually been in Denver since October last year � the accident, lack of money and extreme busyness have all stood in my way � so it will be nice to go back, if only for a few days.

Speaking of, one thing I've been meaning to mention is that my friend H. from Denver now has a journal around these parts. It's weird � I was looking at the list of recently updated diaries one afternoon, and decided to look at hers. I poked around it for a bit, and then I realized, HEY, I KNOW THIS PERSON. It was a really weird feeling. Anyway, go read.

[1] My old, beloved neighborhood � full of used bookstores, dusty antique shops and leather bars. I miss it, even though the last time I drove through it, they were trying to loftize it. Bad move.

[2] Not like it's that hard.

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